Tag Archives: Internet

I got the idea on the Internet. Then I confirmed that it works with the herb guy at the plant store. “Dogs hate that strong minty smell,” he said. “She definitely won’t dig near it.”

Unless you’re Star, the dog who created a little mulch nest in-between peppermint plants, her nose resting contentedly for hours within an inch of that strong minty smell she is supposed to hate.

Or Star, the dog who I discovered covered in mud, digging madly around one of the sprinklers, which was spraying her directly in the face. The peppermint plant she nestled with all weekend is missing. Not a leaf of evidence that it even existed.

quagmire: a soft, boggy area of land that gives way underfoot; an awkward, complex or hazardous situation

When Sign-Up Genius first launched, it was the answer to the soccer mom’s prayers. Then the lacrosse moms, hockey moms, baseball moms. Room parents and Parents’ Associations picked it up too.

Sign-Up Genius is billed as an online volunteer management system that enables volunteers to sign up to drive on field trips, bring snacks to games, brownies to class parties, and more. When you sign in, you can see what other volunteers are bringing, and which snacks they already have covered, so you don’t step on anyone’s toes. Great, right?

And when I was diagnosed with breast cancer, we used it so people could volunteer to bring my family dinner. A wonderful gift. I should LOVE Sign-Up Genius.

But you are supposed to register and create a password that is, of course, different from your other millions of passwords. Now our school is also having you register for Cheddar Up, an online payment system for events with the motto “collecting money from groups made easy”… and it is also great, except that you need to create another password.

My son’s soccer team sends emails telling you to log on to Bonzi, where you can see your message about the upcoming game. Why can’t they just email the info? Another password.

My doctor’s office does the same. “Log onto our portal to see your message.” “Log onto our portal to see your test results.” I called one office and told them I did not want to register for their portal. I had too many passwords to remember for too many portals. Could they please send me information in an email? Apparently not.

And when you have an actual healthcare crisis, be prepared for the Portal Quagmire, where your multiple physicians, surgeons, hospitals, insurance company and HSAs all have their very own portal of which to be proud. “Register for our new portal to…”

“But please… don’t forget your unique password… don’t keep a list of passwords in case someone steals it… and if our system gets hacked at any time, we will ask you to come up with yet another password that you will rapidly forget because it is no longer the only one you can remember.”

That was the one you created when you were 14 or 15, and your bank opened its first-ever ATM. Your best friend’s name. Your childhood dog. The house number where you grew up.

I keep reading editorials in the New York Times and other sources of news that bemoan the effect that technology is having on our children. Children are no longer able to converse, don’t look us in the eye, are more violent, cannot relate to each other. I am pretty sure that our parents’ generation read the same types of things about television when we were little.

However, as a parent, I struggle with age appropriateness regarding access to certain technological tools, as well as to the Internet. At what age should they get this? How closely do I monitor that? How do I empower my kids to benefit from the amazing things that technology will do for them without turning them into violent zombies incapable of carrying on a conversation with me, or their future spouse, or teachers or friends.

This weekend provided its tests regarding my skills as a parent. And they both happened after 9 o’clock at night.

The first was on Friday night, when my four year old took a black stamp pad, and while I was doing the dishes downstairs, he was smearing black ink all over his face, hands, bedroom walls, furniture and toys. When I opened his bedroom door to see if he had managed to get his pajamas on, he grinned and held out his hand out as if to say, “Look at the wonderful masterpiece I’ve created for you!” Yes, this is the same sweet boy who lit a superball on fire by tossing it into the bathroom sconce only a few weeks ago!

The second took place last night, when I returned home from a wonderful dinner out. I went in to turn off the lights in the boys’ room, but the eight and nine year old boys were still awake. “Mommy, why do people put inappropriate things on Google?” Ugh. Apparently, while creating a Powerpoint presentation on Bey Blades (their current favorite toy), they happened upon a Bey Blade-related site that included nudity. Ugh. These same boys thought I was going to blame them for their little brother’s stamp pad incident the night before (which I obviously did not). Now, they expressed concern that I was mad they had seen something so “inappropriate.” Ugh. Poor guys.

But today, it is Super Bowl Sunday. All attention has shifted quickly, as it seems to with them (thank goodness), to the next big issue in our house. Patriots fans versus Eli Manning fans. Who will win?